


Living In Fear

by TheManOfManyFandoms



Series: Family Is More Than Blood [6]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azula (Avatar) is a Cruel Sister, Child Abuse, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, It gets better I promise, Ozai (Avatar) Being An Asshole, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Self-Hatred, Toph Beifong and Zuko are Siblings, Unreliable Narrator, Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko Gets a Hug, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, ozai can fight me in a walmart parking lot at 3 am, the first chapter is rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheManOfManyFandoms
Summary: Or: Five times Zuko thinks that he’s worthless and one time that he knows his worth.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: Family Is More Than Blood [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789564
Comments: 374
Kudos: 2005





	1. Worthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozai is displeased with Zuko’s progress in bending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! The idea for this fic has plagued me for about a week and a half so here it is! This chapter is super angsty but there’s lots of comfort coming soon. I hope you all enjoy! If you do, feel free to drop some kudos and a comment :)
> 
> ——————————  
> Tw: Child abuse

Zuko lets out a frustrated groan as he falls on yet another firebending form. “Aw, poor Zuzu,” Azula taunts from where she is smirking above him.

”Shut up, Azula,” he snaps, glaring up at her. Azula reaches a hand out, as if to help him up, but Zuko has far too much experience with his sister to not see the subtle sparks on her fingers. He pushes her away roughly and gets to his feet, still glowering.

Ever since their mother had left a year ago (and that was all that had happened to her, because Zuko refused to think about any other possibilities) Azula had gotten, if possible, even worse than before. Her bending had increased in prowess and, with it, her sadistic sense of humor. “Oh, look! Father’s coming to check our progress,” she trills, looking at a point some yards behind Zuko.

“Very funny, Azula,” he hisses through clenched teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of flinching or turning around to look.

She shrugs, folding her arms over her chest, “Alright, fine! Don’t believe me. I’m just trying to warn you, dumdum.”

”Why should I _ever_ believe _you_ ,” Zuko asks incredulously, biting down on the urge to put his hands over his ears and say ‘ _Azula always lies_.’

Azula isn’t looking at him anymore, however. She’s looking at someone just behind Zuko, and even Azula isn’t _that_ good of a liar. Zuko freezes as a cold voice questions, “And _why_ , exactly, are you arguing with your sister?”

Zuko turns around stiffly, taking a few steps back, towards Azula and her too-hot hands, but he’d prefer Azula over Father any day. “I wasn’t,” his voice is strained, even to his own ears, and he’s never been a good liar, like Azula.

He looks over to Azula, hoping, praying, that she’d back him up. She used to, when they were still little. When they were still a family. Instead, her face perfectly blank, aside from a very small smirk, she says, “Zuko accused me of lying.”

Zuko feels his shoulder’s tense as he turns his head back to his father, who says, face as unnervingly blank as Azula’s, “I see.” There’s a moment’s pause, where Zuko can hardly breath, and then Ozai says, “Azula. Show me your forms.”

”Of course, father,” she says tonelessly.

She showcases the form perfectly, of course, and Ozai smiles in a way that makes Zuko want to throw up. “Excellent, my dear,” he says. His smile fades as he snaps, “Zuko. What are you waiting for?”   
  
Zuko flinches at his father’s tone and hates the way he can’t stop shaking as he attempts to demonstrate the form. He’s almost completed it when he catches sight of his father’s scowl and his concentration slips. His foot flies out from under him and he lands on the ground with a soft, “ _Oof_.”

He feels icy dread wash over him and he doesn’t dare raise his head, even when he gets to his feet. He hears his father speak as if through a tunnel, “Azula, leave us.”

He hears Azula’s feet hitting the tile floor as she walks away, a little too quickly. He can’t breath. “Zuko,” his father’s voice is mind-numbingly cold, “I want you to explain something to me. Why haven’t you mastered a form that your sister perfected at nine years old?”

”I-I don’t know, sir,” Zuko mumbles, “I’m- I almost had it right.”

A rough hand suddenly grasps his arm and Zuko bites his cheek hard enough to draw blood in order not to gasp. “Almost isn’t good enough,” Ozai growls and Zuko nods rapidly. “Try it again.”

”Yes, s-sir,” Zuko mutters. His legs are shaking so hard, he can hardly stand, let alone firebend. When he, predictably, trips, earlier than last time, he barely stops himself from running as fast as his legs will carry him.

A hand reaches for him and he flinches involuntarily. The hand pauses as Ozai scoffs, “Pathetic.” He hauls Zuko to his feet roughly and glares down at him. “Tell me, Zuko. What do I always tell you?”

Zuko bites his lip anxiously. He’s not exactly sure what his father wants to hear; he tells him a lot of things, none of them good. “I’m not sure,” he whispers, barely audible.

”Azula was born lucky and _you_ , worthless boy, were lucky to be born,” Ozai hisses, “You can’t even remember _that_ much.”   
  
Zuko had expected the hit, but the ferocity behind the back of his father’s hand shocks him a bit. He reels back, tears stinging in his eyes, as his hand automatically flies up to cradle his injured face. “Get out of my sight,” Ozai orders, his mere voice a threat of more pain.

Zuko finally gives in to the urge he’s been fighting for the last half an hour. He runs. He runs until he doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up anymore. Finally, he collapses into a hidden corner of the palace and buries his head in his knees as he allows himself to sob. “Pathetic,” he whispers to himself in a choked voice. He can’t bring himself to care.


	2. Deserving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after Zuko’s banishment; Iroh continues Zuko’s firebending training.

Zuko eyes his uncle warily, as the man lights a candle with a snap of his fingers. Iroh had said that they would simply be working on breathing exercises, something that even Zuko had been able to master years ago. Does Uncle Iroh think that he’s weak? _He might be right_ , Zuko reasons. After all, just yesterday he had flinched away from a sparking candle. His father would have been furious with such a sign of weakness.

A new thought nearly makes Zuko flinch. What if Uncle sees his below-average bending and gets angry, like father? So far, Iroh had never harmed Zuko, but, and Zuko curses himself for his oversight, certainly a guardian or an instructor would have different prerogatives than an uncle.

“Zuko,” his uncle’s calm voice snaps him out of his increasingly panicked thoughts, “I would like for you to try to keep the candle flame in sync with your breathing for as long as you are able. I will sit by you and assist you, should you need me to.”

Zuko nods once, pathetically grateful that Iroh had seated himself on Zuko’s right. The ship’s doctor has yet to allow him to remove the bandages covering his left eye. Besides, he has yet to admit to Iroh, but he can barely hear out of his injured ear anymore. He would be loathe to inadvertently ignore his uncle and give him reason to become angry.

Zuko closes his eye and breathes deeply, hoping Iroh can’t hear the slight stutter, feeling the flame in front of him respond to his prompting; rising and falling in time with his breathing.

His breathing evens out as he relaxes, letting the gentle warmth of the candle wash over him. This warmth is not fear-inducing; not like the warmth of his father’s hand, or the warmth of his sister’s fingers. This warmth reminds him of warm summer days by the turtleduck pond with his mother or, even earlier than those memories, the rush of warmth whenever Lu-Ten would sneak him away from the palace and teach him how to wield swords with skill.   
  
As peaceful as the memories make him feel, much pain accompanies any thoughts of those particular people. The candle’s flame responds to his turbulent emotions, flaring up suddenly. Zuko feels the heat, now much closer to his face, and flinches back, his good eye snapping open. His breathing is now much too shaky to keep the flame alive and it goes out quickly.   
  
Zuko hears his uncle sigh and he can barely keep himself from flinching. “Sorry,” he mutters, staring down at his lap.

”You did quite good for your first attempt at firebending in three months,” Iroh says.

Zuko shakes his head, “I failed.”

”Prince Zuko, you have been meditating for an hour. That is no small feat after such a long break,” Iroh says, seemingly sincere.

Zuko eyes him carefully. He can’t quite tell whether or not Iroh is truly pleased with him, or if he’s simply pretending. His uncle’s next words, however, make his heart drop to his stomach. “Perhaps you can explain to me what startled you.”

“Um, the- the heat on my face, I think. The fire got too big,” he says in the strongest voice he can muster. It only shakes a little.

Iroh’s face is thoughtful and Zuko tries to keep his breathing steady. It’s too quiet for Iroh not to notice, if his breath rasped. “Do you know what caused you to lose control of the flame?” He asks, voice still unexpectedly calm. 

”I, uh,” Zuko’s not quite sure he wants to tell the older firebender what exactly he had been thinking about, “I started to think too much.”

”Keeping your mind clear is an important part of bending fire,” Iroh says, “It is easy to get caught up in your emotions, but you must keep yourself calm and steady.”

”Like Azula?” Zuko blurts out before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the pinched look on his uncle’s face, but blunders on anyway, “She always looks really expressionless when she firebends. It’s kinda scary, but I guess that’s why.”

”I would much prefer it if you did not try to emulate Azula, but, yes, that is the general idea. You need not keep yourself from feeling _any_ emotions, but keep your emotions from controlling you,” Iroh says, with another sigh.

Zuko barely hears the second part of his sentence. He’s still stuck on the part about ‘ _not emulating Azula_.’ Father always told him to be _more_ like Azula, not _less_. As confused as he is, he doesn’t dare ask for an explanation, Uncle already looks much too upset for Zuko to be comfortable.

”Would you like to try again?” Iroh asks. It sounds like a question, but Zuko knows better. He knows better than to refuse, as tired as the previous attempt and subsequent panic have made him.

”Okay,” he says quietly, instead of all of the other thoughts swirling in his mind. Iroh lights a new candle and Zuko closes his eye again. This time, it is much harder to concentrate and his eye keeps fluttering as he struggles to keep it shut. He huffs frustratedly and feels the candle go out.

He opens his eye nervously and flinches a little when he sees Iroh shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking up warily.   
  
Iroh gives him a small smile, standing up. Zuko freezes, hating the way Iroh is now looming over him. A hand reaches forward and, before he has time to think, Zuko flinches hard, falling out of his meditative pose. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out again, “I- I know I didn’t do well but I- I tried my best, I swear.” 

He dares to glance up to his uncle’s face and nearly flinches again. Iroh looks furious. Zuko scrambles into a kneeling position, bowing his head and trying to ignore the way his whole body is shaking. “I apologize for my disappointing performance today, Uncle Iroh,” he says in the steadiest voice he can muster, “I-I accept any punishment that I deserve.”

”Oh, Zuko,” Uncle doesn’t _sound_ angry but that doesn’t mean anything. Azula and Father are good at masking their emotions too. Iroh sits back down, directly in front of his nephew, and Zuko raises his head slightly.

”What do you think is going to happen, my dear nephew?” Uncle Iroh asks, his voice gentle.

Zuko can barely breath as he responds quietly, “I- I didn’t do well in my lesson today. As my teacher, and guardian, you have every right to punish me however you see fit.” It’s not as if he _wants_ Iroh to harm him, but he’s found that being compliant usually makes it hurt less.

”Zuko, I want you to look at me,” Iroh says, his voice firm, yet still very gentle. Zuko looks up warily, unsure of his uncle’s intentions. “I do not know what your father has done to you, or allowed to be done to you, but I will _never_ hurt you.”

”But-” Zuko stammers, “But what if- what if I deserve it?”

”There is nothing you can do that will make me harm you, nephew,” Iroh tells him firmly. He holds a hand out, clearly telegraphing his movements, and helps Zuko into a more comfortable, and less subservient, position.

“It wasn’t Father’s fault,” Zuko blurts out, “He- he had to do it. It helped me improve and I was too-” he takes a shuddering breath, “I was too much of a disappointment already, and-”

“Zuko,” Iroh cuts through his increasingly panicked babble in a firm tone, “your father was wrong to hurt you. You are _not_ a disappointment. Far from it, in fact.”

Zuko’s not sure he believes him, but a little part of him knows that he desperately wants to. He feels tears stinging his good eye and tries to blink them away. “Zuko,” Iroh begins hesitantly, “Can I give you a hug?” 

Zuko nods, faster than he would like to admit, and allows Iroh to wrap his arms around him. Zuko buries his face in Iroh’s chest, as he returns the hug, tears leaking out of his eye. He’s still not sure he believes his uncle, but, for now, he’s willing to put, what little remains of, his faith, in the one person in his life who has never hurt him. “Thank you,” he whispers. Iroh just holds him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I was happy to give Zuko some comfort this time around lol. If you liked this, feel free to drop some kudos or a comment! :)


	3. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko’s back home, his father thinks he’s a hero, the Avatar is presumed dead, and everything should be perfect.....right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is another really rough one. I guess I just like making my favorite characters hurt lmao Enjoy!
> 
> [Tw for child abuse]

Zuko is at the turtleduck pond again. None of the turtleducks are the same ones from when he was a kid, but they seem to enjoy his presence all the same. The pond, and the gentle creatures within, have always been a safe place for him, but, ever since he returned, it seems to be the only place he can relax. 

He actually feels his eyes slipping shut, as he strokes a turtleduck gently, until a cold voice jolts him awake again, “Zuzu!”

He jolts upright, back ramrod straight, as he growls, ” _What_ , Azula?”

”Is that any way to talk to your favorite sister?” She asks, her tone teasing, though there is an undercurrent of a threat in the statement.

”You’re not my favorite _anything_ ,” Zuko refutes, glaring up at her.

She pretends to pout as she sarcastically says, “That’s _so_ hurtful, Zuzu.”

”What do you _want_ , Azula?” He asks, wanting, more than anything, for her to leave him alone.

”Oh, nothing,” she says airily, “I was just wondering what could _possibly_ be so important that you missed sparring practice.”

Zuko gapes, “I- what? That’s not for another hour, right?”

”You fell asleep, dumdum,” she glares and Zuko barely restrains himself from flinching.

He stays silent, mind racing. How could he have lost track of time like that? “Was father-”

“Oh, Dad was furious. He told me to,” she makes air quotes with her fingers, “deal with you.” 

“Why didn’t he come himself?” Zuko rasps out. As much as he fears his father, it stings a little that he doesn’t even care enough to discipline him in person.

”You really think _you’re_ worth his time?” She sneers, “I don’t think he’s even surprised by how much of a failure you are, anymore.”

Her words hit him much harder than he would ever admit, but then, he thinks bitterly, she’s always been good at getting under his skin. “It’s not like you wanted to go anyway,” she says scathingly, “Poor little Zuzu is afraid of people knowing how much of a useless bender he is.”

”Shut up, Azula,” he snaps, getting to his feet.   
  
She smirks at him, infuriatingly calm, “I touched a nerve, didn’t I?” She takes a purposeful step towards him, her smirk widening when he takes an instinctive step back. “What? Are you afraid of your actions getting you burned?”

The moment he processes the double meaning in her words, he feels himself flinch. They stare at eachother for a long moment. Zuko glaring. Azula smirking. Then she laughs, "You really are too easy to get a rise out of." Zuko feels his face flush, as she continues lightly, "I was lying anyway, dumdum. Of course, father wants to see you himself. He told me to take you to him."

Zuko feels the blood leave his face, as quickly as it had rushed in a moment ago. His mouth seems to have gone very dry as he remembers the last time he had faced his father, when the man had been angry.

He doesn't say a word to Azula as she leads him to the _throne room_ , of all places. Zuko follows his sister like a man being sent to his execution. Like a boy being sent to an impossible duel.

Azula leaves him at the door, but the look she gives him is not a triumphant one. It's certainly not sadness, but there's a certain heaviness in the corners of her eyes. She opens her mouth once, closes it again in a rare moment of hesitation, and finally settles on a twisted mockery of a smile. "You should be more careful, Zuko," she says mockingly, as she walks away. 

Even in his petrified state, Zuko can tell that her behavior is off. He doesn't have the time to mull this over, however, as he is busy being ushered in by a servant.

He takes one look at the stern face of his father, behind a line of flames, and drops to his knees in a low bow, forehead touching the floor. "You wished to see me, father?" It is an act of the spirits that his voice doesn't shake.

"I _wish_ to know why you are just as much of a lazy brat as you were three years ago," Ozai's voice is unbearably cold, and Zuko feels the air leave his lungs in a rush.

He feels thirteen years old again, and that says everything, doesn't it? "I did not mean to miss practice," he hurriedly assures, raising his head.

Ozai stands, striding towards him, and Zuko can feel himself trembling so hard, he can barely hold himself up. "You never _mean_ anything, do you, Zuko? You never _mean_ disrespect. You never _mean_ to be a dissapointment. And yet you're _still_ nothing but a worthless boy. Clearly, you've learned nothing."

"I'm sorry, father," Zuko mumbles. Not that apologies have ever helped him, sincere or not.

"You certainly should be," Ozai agrees, "Rise, Prince Zuko."

Zuko does so hastily, keeping his head bowed and his shaking hands hidden behind his back. Ozai grips his arm in a hold that is both much too tight and much too hot. "You should be grateful that I'm letting you off so lightly," he says, as he releases Zuko.

Zuko can smell singed flesh and nearly gags at the horrifically familiar scent. "Leave me," Ozai orders and Zuko complies, nearly running out of the throne room. 

When he gets to his own chambers and sees the burn his father has left on his arm, he really does gag. It's not very large, but the sight, and smell, of flesh burned, by his father's hand, threaten to send him into a panic.

He finally really _does_ throw up the little food he had been able to eat that day. Afterwards, feeling miserable, he simply crawls into bed and curls up as far under the covers as he can get. He finally gives in to the tears he had been fighting and cries as silently as he can until he falls asleep. 

He dreams of gentle afternoons with mother, patient tea-making lessons from Uncle Iroh, and a burning hand that sears its way through everything Zuko holds dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! If you did, feel free to drop some kudos or a comment :)


	4. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sparring match ends badly for Zuko.

The thing is, Zuko _knows_ what fathers are like. Fathers are demanding. Fathers are impatient. And, most importantly, fathers are _dangerous_. Which is why Hakoda is a complete mystery. Hakoda hardly ever yells, he doesn’t sneer when one of his children loses a sparring match, and Zuko has never seen him lay a hand on any of the children in this strange group.

Of course, that doesn’t mean a thing. Father had treated him with at least some respect while around anyone but family members and the palace servants. Well, except for that one, horrible time. Zuko has only spoken to Hakoda alone _once_ and that had been a very brief exchange. He still hasn’t seen the man in a dangerous situation. But it seems that that is about to change.

Sokka and Zuko had been sparring ( _swordbending_ Sokka called it and it’s so ridiculous it’s almost funny) and Zuko had actually found himself somewhat relaxed, but, as he sees Hakoda wandering over to join them, he feels his muscles tensing automatically. “Mind if I spar with you, Sokka?” He asks and Zuko feels the blood rushing in ears.

”I’ll do it,” Zuko blurts out, and now they’re both looking at him strangely, and, Agni above, he had never been good at keeping his mouth shut, had he? “I-I mean,” he desperately tries to reword his impulsive statement.

Whatever happens, he won’t go back on it. He will _not_ let Sokka spar with his father. He won’t let Sokka get hurt. “I’ll spar with you, if that’s acceptable, Chief Hakoda, sir.” He bows slightly, out of instinct, hoping that it’s at least a little proper.

An odd, unreadable expression flickers over Hakoda’s face and Zuko desperately hopes that it’s not a sign of displeasure. “Of course,” the chief says, his face softening slightly, “what weapons do you fight with?”

”Twin dao, sir,” Zuko mumbles, unable to smother a flicker of pride when he displays them.

”I don’t suppose I can use your club, Sokka?” Hakoda asks.

”Sure,” Sokka is grinning, but the corners of his eyes are tight as he looks at Zuko. 

“Why does a bender need to learn how to use a sword?” Hakoda asks, as they both get in their stances.

Zuko swallows thickly as he responds, “I’ve never been a very good bender. My cou- um, someone who was close to me suggested that I learn some other fighting technique.”

Hakoda, once again, gives him a strange look, “From what I’ve seen of you and Aang, you’re quite a talented firebender.”

Zuko swallows again, before mumbling, "I guess I've improved." He’s not sure that he likes “bantering” with Hakoda while the other man is holding a weapon. What if he says the wrong thing, like he always does, and angers the man? He knows without a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to defend himself in a _real_ fight against Sokka’s father.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice that Hakoda is knocking him off his feet, until he’s on the ground. He sees Hakoda looming over him, a hand reaching forward, and all he can see is Ozai. Zuko flinches violently, skittering backwards like some kind of terrified animal.

”Sorry! I’m sorry!” He mutters frantically, looking around for _any_ sort of escape, but father is angry and the ringed scar on his arm is burning in a way it hasn’t for over a month.

A hand touches his shoulder and he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t do _anything_. He’s stopped moving now and he can’t seem to do anything but stay where he is; sprawled on the ground, head ducked fearfully, and trembling out of his skin.

Father’s angry _again_ because Zuko’s a fuck-up who can never do anything right. Maybe Ozai will be angry enough to just finish him off this time. Maybe Zuko would deserve it.

The hand moves away from his shoulder and up towards his face. This time he _does_ flinch, scrambling into a kneeling position on instinct. “Please,” he rasps hoarsely, “I-I’m sorry, b-but _please_ don’t burn my face again.”

A hand takes one of his and he nearly pulls away. Except he can’t. This hand is so, painfully gentle and, as much as he doesn’t want to fall for any tricks, he can’t help but latch onto it like it’s saving him from drowning. He doesn’t look up as he feels the hand squeeze back, but something seems to settle in his chest. Now he can make out a voice, “-with me, Zuko.”

”What?” He whispers. His throat is so dry it hurts and he swallows painfully.

"Breath with me, Zuko,” the voice is incredibly gentle and Zuko feels himself tearing up, despite himself.

"I-I can't," he chokes, taking a shuddering breath, "I'm sorry."

"That's alright," the kind voice tells him, "Just try your best, alright?"

Zuko listens to the exaggerated breathing and tries to follow suit. He tenses momentarily, when he feels another hand rubbing his back, but quickly relaxes further. After a moment, he's coherent enough to register that he can't see a thing, because his eyes are squeezed shut.

He opens them warily and can't help but sigh, when the only things his left eye registers are blobs of light. "Hey, are you back with us?" A familiar voice asks.

Zuko looks up at Sokka and rasps, "I think so." Sokka cracks a small, relieved smile and Zuko returns it shakily.

"I apologize for frightening you," a deeper voice says. Zuko barely catches the words and, when he turns his head to the left, in order to hear better, he finds himself face-to-face with Hakoda.

He drops eye contact immediately, but doesn't flinch away this time. "I'm sorry for, uh, freaking out like that. It was stupid of me" he mutters.

"You don't have to apologize, it was _not_ your fault," Hakoda says, his voice gentle.

"And it wasn't stupid at all," Sokka pipes up.

"...oh," Zuko says blankly, "um, okay."

"Zuko," Hakoda begins, "I don't want you to be afraid of me. I would _never_ hurt you, or any child."

Zuko stares at him for a moment, biting his lip, before saying, "I really want to believe you, but I- I'm not sure that I can."

"Than I'll prove it to you, eventually," Hakoda says confidently, gently putting a hand on Zuko's arm.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Zuko quickly wraps his arms around Hakoda in a hug. Hakoda returns the hug, squeezing Zuko reassuringly. 

As Zuko allows himself to sink into the embrace, he can't help but feel safer than he has in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a bit clunkier than usual, but I'm vibing with it, so it goes up! Lemme know what ya'll think!


	5. Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not long after the group arrive at Ember Island, Katara says something that hits Zuko a little harder than it was expected to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For those of you who have read the first installment in this series, this chapter takes place BEFORE the ‘Katara’ chapter)  
> Oh, and if anyone thinks Katara seems mean or cold at all in this chapter, this IS through Zuko’s eyes so... not the most reliable right now. In this house we drink “Respect Katara Juice.”

Zuko, quite frankly, is relieved that he and Katara are finally in, at least, a tentative truce. Zuko had already feared her, but, after seeing her performance of, what she had called, blood bending, he does _not_ want to get on her bad side. At least, now, she doesn’t glower at him every time he speaks, looking far too much like Azula for comfort.

At the moment, the six of them are taking turns sparring with eachother. Toph had just flattened Aang in an ‘earthbending only’ match and is now smirking in a self-satisfied way. “Zuko! Come on and spar with me,” Katara calls. She _sounds_ friendly, but since when has Zuko been good at reading people’s tone?  
  
He nods anyway, “Alright. Should we go until the other yields?”

She nods, uncorking her bending flask and drawing the water out, allowing it to flow between her hands. Zuko readies his stance and waits. “My bets are on Zuko!” Sokka calls out.

”Thanks, Sokka,” Katara rolls her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, “You really are a wonderful brother.”

Zuko winces a little at this, trying not to think of Azula. He strikes first, kicking his foot into the air and sending a wheel of fire towards Katara. She slices it apart with a water whip from one hand, curling more water around his foot with the other. Zuko punches down and breaks the water with a jet of fire.

”We haven’t actually fought eachother in a while, have we?” Katara realizes aloud.

Zuko feels himself tensing. The last thing he wants, is for the waterbender to remember how much she hates him while they’re fighting. He doesn’t respond to her question, wondering vaguely whether she might be baiting him.

”I think you’ve improved,” she adds as they continue circling eachother, lashing out on occasion.   
  
“You too,” Zuko responds quietly, feeling himself go a bit red. “You know,” he starts, unable to quell his curiosity, “I never _did_ find out who taught you.”

”A sexist, old man,” she says with a slight shrug, “what about you?”

Zuko tries to keep his thoughts away from his uncle’s disappointed eyes and cold, unforgiving back as he responds carefully, “Um, a _not_ sexist, old man.” He hears laughter from somewhere behind him and even Katara is smiling a little.

”Lucky you,” she snarks, surging forward with another water whip. He barely avoids it, sending a blast of fire back at her. “I think my teacher kind of hates me.”

Zuko feels his lungs constrict as he rasps, “Me too.”

Katara laughs a little, “Yeah... I challenged Pakku to a duel once.”

She either doesn’t hear, or doesn’t care about, Zuko’s audible gasp. He had dueled a master once, too. He’s so caught up in his increasingly panicked thoughts, that the water that wraps around his ankle manages to bring him down this time. 

She advances forward, hands stretched out in front of her, and Zuko can’t stop himself from flinching. “I yield!” He says hastily. She bends the water back into her flask and holds out a hand. He stares at it for a moment, remembering all of the times Azula would win a sparring match and use the victory as an excuse to “accidentally” hurt him. 

Finally, he tentatively takes Katara’s hand and is almost surprised that she simply helps him up with a slight smile. “When you- when you dueled that man... did he hurt you?” Zuko asks quietly.

”A few cuts and bruises, but nothing I couldn’t handle,” she says, waving a hand flippantly, “Why? Are you planning on dueling _your_ teacher?” She laughs a little, and Zuko _knows_. He _knows_ she doesn’t know who is teacher was and he _knows_ that she’s just kidding, but suddenly he can’t breath. 

”No!” He says, louder than he had meant to, “No, no,” he can’t seem to form a proper sentence anymore, “I wouldn’t. I can’t. He would- he’s so much more powerful than me,” he takes a shuddering breath, flinching away from an unexpected hand on his arm. 

Looking down, he sees Toph standing there. “Sparky and I are going to go cool down,” she says calmly, reaching up and grabbing his sleeve in a gentle but firm grip.

He follows her shakily, hardly able to hear above his terrified heart beat and rasping breaths. She sits down in a secluded back courtyard and tugs him down with her. “Hey, you wanna breath with me?” Grabbing Zuko’s hand and squeezing, she begins to breath exaggeratedly deep breaths. 

Slowly, Zuko feels his panicked gasps slowing to something more like a normal breath. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, “It must have seemed stupid.”

”Not really,” Toph says, shrugging, “Your uncle taught you bending, right?”

Zuko feels his lungs constrict again as he mumbles, “Yeah.”

”Well, then, that makes sense. Of course you wouldn’t want to fight him,” she says matter-of-factly, “Oh, and Sparky? Your uncle doesn’t hate you.”

”How-how do you know that?” Zuko asks in a whisper, not wanting to get his hopes once.

”I met him once. Back before shit hit the fan in Ba Sing Se. He wouldn’t stop talking about you. He loves you a lot, Zuko.”   
  
Zuko sighs, shaking his head, “Like you said. Before Ba Sing Se. He hates me and- and that’s okay, I’m kinda used to people hating me. Maybe he’ll let me apologize to him before he kicks me out of his life.”

There’s a pause, before Toph says, “You know that that’s really, really depressing, right, dude? And don’t apologize,” she adds firmly.   
  
“I just hope that he doesn’t hurt me,” Zuko admits, in a very, very small voice.

Toph sits up straight, “He will _not_ hurt you, Zuko. He wouldn’t, but, even if he tried, he’d have to go through me first and we all know how hard _that_ is.”

Zuko smiles a little, “Thanks, Toph.”

Toph puts a hand on his arm again, “Listen, Sunshine. I know you have a really shitty family, but I don’t think your uncle’s like that. Besides, you have a new family now and we would never, _ever_ hurt you.”

Zuko is a little mortified to feel tears springing to his eyes. "'That- that means a lot to me."

Toph gently punches his arm with a slight smile, "I know, it feels weird to have people give a shit about you, right?"

Zuko huffs a laugh, "Yeah, you can say that."

"Well, get used to it, Sunshine, 'cause you ain't ever getting rid of us," she grins and Zuko laughs.

When they finally return to the rest of the group, Zuko feels more comfortable with them than he ever has before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I noticed that I kind of accidentally made a theme of every chapter centering around some kind of sparring or lesson so... I decided to continue it!


	6. Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war is over, the gaang decides to have a friendly spar.

“Fireflake, get your ass over here!” The Fire Lord in question, rolls his eyes at Toph’s demanding tone.

”Be nice, Toph,” Katara scolds, though there’s laughter in her voice.

”Nah, being mean is more fun,” she smirks broadly, “Sparky! We’re gonna spar and then Uncle’s going to give us some tea. The proper stuff, not that bull-moose shit the palace cooks make.”

” _Toph_ ,” Zuko playfully admonishes, as he makes his way over to the rest of the group, where they’re waiting in a large, open courtyard, “you _know_ it’s not fair to compare Uncle’s tea to anyone else’s.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you to say, nephew,” Iroh smiles.

Zuko feels himself going red. He hadn’t noticed his uncle, from where he was sitting between Sokka and Aang. ”Oh, uh, hi, Uncle.”

Iroh waves, smirking a little, as Katara says, “Zuko, do you and Toph want to go first?”

”Yeah, sure,” he mock-scowls at her, “thanks for volunteering my ass to be kicked.”

”You’re welcome,” the waterbender replies sweetly, while Toph cackles, like the little spirit of chaos she is.

Zuko rolls his eyes again, but doesn’t complain as he gets into position. “3, 2, now!” Toph shouts, as she sends a wave of earth flying towards him. Zuko uses his firebending to propel himself out of the way, shooting a blast of fire back at her. She pulls up a shield of earth to protect herself and sends smaller pieces rocketing towards the firebender.

Zuko breaks through them with a flaming fist and sends a wheel of fire speeding towards the metalbender. He hadn’t been prepared, however, for the ground to move under him and throw him backwards. He hits the ground with a soft, “ _Oof_.”

Toph advances towards him and he shakes his head, “I yield.”   
  
Her serious expression softens into a smirk immediately. “Sweet. That was fun!” She says, holding out a hand to help Zuko up. He doesn’t feel the all too familiar spike of panic. He doesn’t feel the automatic wariness, that always sends tremors through his body, whenever someone offers him seemingly undeserved assistance. Without even thinking, he takes her hand and allows her to pull him to his feet.

It’s not until he looks at the slightly stunned expression on Toph’s face that he realizes he might have done anything out of the ordinary. He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously and opens his mouth to say something. _What_ , he doesn’t know. He closes it again, when Toph punches his arm softly and says, “Good spar, Sunshine,” in an oddly thick voice.

He tilts his head a little in confusion, “Are you-”

“Shut up, Fire Fingers,” she snaps, with no real heat behind the words.

”Um, o-okay?” He’s not sure what would make _Toph_ , of all people, choked up, but shrugs it off as he goes to sit with the others. 

He looks to Katara, hoping to find the same confusion he feels echoed on her face. Instead, he sees the Water Tribe girl looking at him with an unusually gentle expression. She reaches out and gives his hand a quick squeeze, before turning back to watch Sokka and Suki spar.

“Okay, what the _hell_ is up with these people?” He asks Aang, who, to Zuko’s chagrin, wraps his arms around the firebender’s waist and squeezes hard.

”Nothing, I think we’re just proud of you, Zuko,” the airbender says quietly.

”Oh,” a pause, “why?”

”Oh, shut the fuck up and let us hug you, Sparky,” Toph growls, latching onto him from the opposite side.

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko does _not_ whine, “get these little pentapuses off of me.”

Iroh gives him a mirthful smile, but takes pity on him and says, “Toph, you can have some of my Jasmine tea if you release my poor nephew.”

”This is coercion,” she accuses, even as she detaches herself from Zuko.

“Actually, I think it’s bribery,” Aang comments, unraveling himself from his firebending master.

”Nah, that’s less dramatic,” Toph shakes her head, smiling a little.

They all turn their heads to watch, when they hear Sokka let out a high-pitched yelp, before he whines, “That’s not _fair_ , Suki. Your ninja skills are creepy.”

“ _I’m_ not the ninja,” Suki protests, “that’s Fire Lord Dual-Wielder over there.”

Zuko feels himself blushing a little, but he smiles at the pair as they turn to look at him. “You should try it sometime. Sneaking around is pretty useful _and_ it’s entertaining.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Sokka laughs, standing up and walking back towards the rest of the group.

”I’ll start the tea,” Iroh informs them.

” _Yes_ ,” Toph cheers, “you know I’m a slut for that sweet, sweet leaf water.”

Zuko facepalms, groaning, “Toph, do you _ever_ think about the words coming out of your mouth?”

”Nope!” She says cheerfully, popping the _p_.

”What’s the point in that?” Sokka asks, feigning incredulity.

”Exactly!” the earthbender says, pointing in Sokka’s direction.

Zuko rolls his eyes once more, but, as he looks around at this group of oddities, he feels a rush of fondness that threatens to overwhelm him. Aang is now sitting on Katara’s lap, who is hugging him around the middle as she engages in an animated conversation with Suki. Toph and Sokka are arm-wrestling, the Earth Kingdom girl laughing maniacally. Uncle Iroh is sitting and brewing tea with a small, happy smile on his face. And Zuko suddenly knows with an absolute certainty that he is worth just as much to them, as they are to him. And he knows, if only for the moment, that he is absolutely worthy of their love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! Another lovely-to-write fic is done! I hope you all enjoyed! Drop some kudos and a comment and I’ll see you all in the next fic!


End file.
